Date Night 2012: Stripperland

And our story continues….

After my Rockstar and I decided to leave the Red Carpet, he said, “Are we going to Sugar Daddies with all your ones or what?”

I have a habit of handing my wad of alotted spending moneys to my Rockstar at the beginning of adventuresome nights. (since ruffle skirts and tight shirts do not generally have pocketal areas) Since I am now a Pizza Slut, my wad of moneys tends to be all ones. (or 5’s) So this is the reason my Rockstar got the idea to go to the strip club.

Being the booby-loving and fun -loving girl that I am, I said, “Woo!”

So off we went to Stripperland.

Long ago, (right after I turned 18), I went to Stripperland with my ex-hubby and his friends. Him being the non-fun loving man that he was, he was not greatly amused when a dancer going by the name of Paige asked to gimme a lap dance. His friends, on the other hand, found it highly… amusing. At that time, Stripperland, MN was short on attractive nudey dancers, so I have not been back since. (Though Paige was adorable, in a pierced-tit-and-clit sort of way.)

Before me and my boobs came along, my Rockstar was a lonely lonely man who frequented Stripperland, MN. Since we have been together, he no longer finds the need to pay for ogling of naked chics, since I allow him to ogle me for free. (Although, I would surely take any dollar bills that were offered.)

When we got to Sugar Daddies, I was appalled to find that women no longer get in for free, but instead are forced to pay the same exhorbitant price of $10 for a glass of Diet Pepsi. (Dammit!) In my drunken state, I asked the bouncer-type man if he would sell me his lovely tie, which he thought about, before sadly refusing my offer, stating that he needed it for work the next night. With our $10 sodas in hand, we made our way to Sniffer’s Row, where a delightfully naked, almost hot chic proceeded to flash her pussy at us. Sadly, her second song was done almost immediately, and then a few uglies came out and danced. We moved away from Sniffer’s Row when my Rockstar proclaimed that he did not want to spend all of my hard-earned ones on Nasties.

After re-situating ourselves at a table, an adorably cross-eyed stripper came over to say hey. She commented on my shoes, (“OH! I looove your shoes! They are very stripperesque!”) to which I replied, (A bit sarcastically) “That is EXACTLY what I was going for!” *flashing a smile here*

She went away saddened that we did not request a personal dance. We then proceeded to roam our eyes around the place, looking for hotty strippers. My Rockstar grabbed my arm and whispered fiercely, “Don’t point! They’ll come over!” when I spotted one, and then he said, “Ah. Iana. I remember her. She don’t look so good no more.” when a blonde (of course) with a hot body but cottage cheese on her ass bent down in front of us.

I was immediately enthralled with “Brie” when she came out and shook things up by actually using the pole that was on stage. “How does she do that?!” I cried, when she spun around upside down, and then continued her dance by sliding her very nicely-shaped boobies out of her brassiere. Sadly, out of the 10 dancers we saw, she was the only one who appealled to me.

After my Rockstar commented, “Yeah, these girls have aged. The girls in Texas were way hotter.” and I checked his pants to see if he had a raging boner, (he didn’t), I suggested we go home and I would remedy the situation that was in his pants. (The situation being a flaccid Man Part.)

For the record, Stripperland, MN smells like tanning lotion, and NOT like expired Man Juice. (as I expected) For only $55, I could have sniffed the VIP room to see if THAT smelled like expired Man Juice. (I decided not this time.) On our way out, I once again tried to convince the bouncer to sell me his tie. (He politely refused.)

When we got home, I fled to the bathroom to pee, (alcohol will make you do that sometimes.) and when I came out, there was my Rockstar, trying to find hot chics on Lubetube. (highly entertaining television) I sauntered over to him (I like to think I sauntered, when in actuality I probably stumbled, but nevermind that.) and I said, “Aright, lemme see if I can get it hard, since all those other girls couldn’t.”

The End

P.S. The repurcussions of our trip to Stripperland were well worth the voyage. Let us just say that those girls have got nothing on me. Twice.  😉 XOXO

Date Night 2012

Happy Monday, my Lovelys! So I guess this is what happens. I go away from my computer for two days, and when I come back, I have many stories to tell. Let us begin….

So after contemplating over  my relationship with my Rockstar, I have come to realize that Date Night should be included in the list of national holidays on the Sparklebumps calendar. This being mainly because it usually only happens about once a year. I am not complaining, no- here is the part where I tell you I am not like most women. I do not need to be wined and dined by my significant other in order to be happy in my relationship. A good hardy fucking is quite preferable, actually, so- let us just say that I am exstatic about the state of my relationship. That being said, once or twice annually, my Rockstar finds it necessary to get us out of our sexually-charged slump and venture out into the world. Friday was one of those times.

I got home from working on Friday night to (surprisingly) find my Rockstar still awake at 8:00 (don’t ask.) I also found that he was sans Daughter, and had no intentions of immediate slumber. Instead, he stated, “Take a shower, and then we can go downtown and see what shitty bands are out.” I, being thrilled at the prospect of wearing my new ruffle skirt and multi-colored sparkly tights replied, “Woo!”

So after slapping on the going-out-on-the-town appropriate amount of eyeshadow, (and my Rockstar donned his “Army” pants that make me just wanna bite right into his cute butt) we departed.

(For the record, the last time we went downtown was 2 Halloweens ago, and the night ended disastrously when no taxis were available for transport home, and we ended up walking three miles in winter-like weather- I, while wearing a skimpy angel costume and running barefoot while carrying my 5″ sequined angel shoes.)

We arrived downtown, and went to the Red Carpet. For those of you not familiar with St. Cloud history, the Red Carpet is a four level bar/ nightclub that is semi-famous for being in some movie one time long ago. This being a college town, on any given night, the Carpet can be overrun with drunkies. (Quite entertaining.) We went to the bar and I ordered my Peach Schnapps with water (which never ceases to get a raised eyebrow from the bartender) and my Rockstar ordered a beer. We then waited for excitement to ensue.

One of the pasttimes my Rockstar and I have when we go out is to check out the hot chics. This night, we ended up ogling the bartender girls, since the place was short on patronage. After a bit, the band started.

I was immediately thrilled at the choice in band, (even though the first song they sang was a Rolling Stones hit), and we sat (and I wiggled) there for the next hour or two. We gave most of our money to our Asian Hooker waitress and said, “Keep ’em comin.” I had a Scooby Snack (which I had forgotten existed) and we shared a shot of Jag. I also made friends with the bouncer (his name was Security) and a few other security-type people placed near the bathroom. (In case of a massive shit explosion, perhaps.)

At one point, during the band’s break,  I grabbed the bassist’s wrist and asked him if he was, in fact Robert Trujillo (the fill-in bassist for Metallica and Black Label Society.  Also see: the best bassist in the world.) He assured me that he was NOT, in fact, Robert Trujillo, but that he had just started the band the day before and was, in fact, started a “kick-ass” band in March. Sadly, my Rockstar and I forgot his name AND the name of his new band  as soon as he walked away, (alcohol has that affect) so we will not again be seeing Robert Trujillo’s Twin intentionally anytime soon.

During the course of the night, a girl and a man came and sat at the table in front of us. I (being drunk) noticed the girl was cute (of course), but then did not think of her (or them) again. Not until my Rockstar whispered (or yelled into my ear over the music), “She keeps looking back at you, you know.” I said, “Oh! I must go say hey!” So I went over and said hey.

I informed the cute girl that the man she was with (her husband) seemed NOT to be showing her a good time, and that she should come hang with us. She politely declined, but then her hubby went out to dance (drunkily) and I talked to her for a bit. When my Rockstar and I decided to leave, (because the band had started playing horseshit girly music) I gave her a giant hug and wished her good luck with her boring husband. She said, “Thank you.”

You think that is the end of the story, don’t you? Fear not. This was only part one. However, I must dye my hair and eat some French fries before I get to part two. So stay tuned.